


Dancing On Her Own

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, F/F, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not my birthday anymore.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing On Her Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FakePlastikTrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/gifts).



> Spoilers through episode 2x10 “The Surprise Party.” This is just an alternative ending to the episode—how I thought it should have gone. Comments would be amazing!

Ivy looks up at the clock above the wall of mirrors behind the bar. It’s 11:59 – one minute until her birthday is over. Another day, another year older. Everything has changed, and yet everything has remained the same.

The bartender, a beautiful young Hispanic woman, slides another drink in front of her. It’s electric pink and looks far more lethal than the vodka tonics she’s been nursing all night. “It’s on me,” the woman says with a wink. “My special little concoction for the birthday girl.” 

Ivy blushes, her pale cheeks staining red. “Thank you. That’s really kind of you.” She smiles. 

The bartender’s red lips curl into a smirk. “There’s that smile. A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be frowning on her birthday.” 

Ivy darts a look at the clock. 12:01. “It’s technically not my birthday anymore.” 

“Still—you should smile just the same. Your whole face lights up when you do.” With a lingering grin, the woman moves down the bar to attend to another patron, her dark eyes glancing back one final time. 

So caught up in the unexpectedly sweet (and possibly flirtatious?) moment is Ivy that she doesn’t notice the seat beside her is no longer vacant until there are fingertips brushing against her arm. 

“Happy birthday,” Karen says in a quiet voice. Her lips tilt up into smile. She looks breathless, as if she’s rushed all the way downtown just to meet her.

For a moment, Ivy doesn’t know what to say. She’d hoped for Karen to show up, had checked her phone all day and all night. She’s not sure what’s worse: the fact that Karen hadn’t bothered to send a text at all acknowledging her birthday, or the fact that she showed up when the day had already passed. “It’s not my birthday anymore,” Ivy replies, her voice a little harder than she intends. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it any sooner. It’s been crazy…Derek has been pulling a _Derek_ again…” Karen’s voice trails off, and the real excuse—the _real_ explanation—is in what remains unsaid: that Karen has a boy, and he has become her new orbit. “But I’m here now,” Karen adds, as if the simple fact of her presence is enough to make up for everything. Ivy knows that in Karen’s mind, the scenario is simple; they’ll have a drink and then go back to Ivy’s for a quick fuck, and then Karen will be off again to her own place, or worse—back to Brooklyn.

Ivy knocks back the free birthday drink—it’s fruity, and has a kick as it burns down her throat. She’s already consumed her share of consolation drinks tonight, but this one is different. This one is for courage. “You know what, Karen? I really, really wanted to see you tonight. I waited for you…but that’s the thing. I _always_ seem to be waiting for you, and I’m always the second choice. Is the new guy busy tonight? Are you having a lover’s quarrel? Is that why you’re here: as an afterthought?” 

“Of course not,” Karen replies, and the look on her face conveys genuine hurt. “I said I was sorry. I wanted to be here, but—“ 

“There’s always a ‘but’.” Until that very moment, Ivy had thought that their unofficial, open arrangement had been working just fine. They've been doing this dance from the very beginning--only now Ivy realizes she's been dancing on her own to a completely different tune.

"I've been playing second fiddle for a really long time, Karen," Ivy finally says, looking the other woman in the face. She can almost still see Little Miss Iowa in her, lost amongst the diva, the showstopper, and the girl who left Broadway for a boy. But Karen has changed, and so has Ivy. "It didn't occur to me until tonight that I deserve better than that."

“Ivy—“ 

Ivy slides off her stool, collecting her coat and her clutch. She won’t forget her keys this time—the last thing she needs is Karen coming after her the way Tom did. “I know you’ve got your own life and your own show. Hell, I know the only reason I’ve got _Bombshell_ is because you gave it up, but I’m not going to screw up my chances by sticking around waiting for you.” 

“Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair?” Karen argues, her hair falling against her cheek. In another life, Ivy would have tucked the hair behind her ear and kissed her until she was breathless. 

But Ivy is another year older and another year wiser, and she’s through with it. 

“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago. I’ve always let you get to me, Karen.” She leans in and kisses Karen’s cheek. “I can’t do it anymore.”

When Ivy steps out into the fresh, clear Manhattan night, she feels like herself again. She spent her birthday feeling awkward and uncomfortable and guilty and unwanted. 

It’s a new day. It’s a new year in her life. Liza freakin’ Minnelli sang her a song. She’s the lead in a Broadway show—she’s got the role she wanted from the start. 

She’s Ivy Lynn again, and nothing-- _no one_ \--is going to stop her now. 

\---


End file.
